When life kicks in
by Hello-Sweetie1311
Summary: post DH. Ron cant handle life after Hogwarts, and is abusive. hermione suffers, but can Fred save her and show her what she deserves ? AU, fred is alive. more chapters will be up soon. Warnings for rape, abuse, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione's day had already been long and wasn't likely to give up any soon. She loved her work, thrived on it, but being a healer at st mungo's was exhausting work when you were well and rested. Doing her job when shed been up fighting with Ron all night was just too much. She moved down the hall, past people in various stages of disease, infection and injury, hoping they didn't see the traitorous tears that threatened to make an appearance and give away the secrets she hid so well behind her prim, proper and capable appearance.

_It shouldn't be like this. We were so young and so invincible after Hogwarts… now look at us. _

Her husband, Ronald, was a drunk and a wash out. It hadn't always been that way. They'd been through pain and horror and violence and bloodshed and grief and came out strong. What they couldn't handle, it seemed, was life. Just, life. The endless drudging monotone of everyday existence when there were no castles or villains to make them feel so alive.

Maybe it was the day Ron was told her was suitable to be an auror. Maybe, the day she got her dream job and became the breadwinner. Smiling, joking, touching, gone. Replaced with bottle after bottle of fire whisky, a horrible, loathsome man who didn't do anything but sit and wait for her to come home, come home to accusations and scorn and raised fists….

Hermione shuddered at the memory, the bruising still evident under her long sleeves. She didn't want to remember, even though she knew it was far from past. She missed the castle, missed her parents, and missed just being an overly clever child again.

_I'm all alone in this now, in this big grown up world. _

Harry couldn't help; he and Ginny were so happy, so loving. Besides what would Ginny think of her? The weasleys were her family, she couldn't risk losing them. But logic, her old friend, told her she couldn't carry on like this either.

"Mrs Weasley? Hermione?" her assistants voice rang out down the corridor, louder than was really proper for a hospital.

"Yes, Marta, I'm here." It came out wearier than she wanted.

"Mr Weasley is here to see you."

_Oh Merlin, Ron was here at her work. What was he doing? What if he made a scene?_

The horror must have shown on her face because her young assistant focused on her with a look of concern.

"Mrs Weasley? Are you quite alright?"

"yes I'm fine, just haven't eaten much is all. Can you please ask Ron to wait in my office?"

Marta's face puckered in confusion before relaxing with understanding

"noooo, Mrs weasley, I'm sorry, I forget. The other Mr Weasley, Fred? The twin that comes by here? The, the very handsome one?" the last statement induced a blush in the blonde freckled girl, and Hermione in her relief didn't fail to experience a pang of envy at the young woman's embarrassment.

_Fred's here. Thank god. _

With the first genuine smile she'd experienced in days and a much lighter step she set off for her office, where a joking, larger than life Fred weasley, owner of the best joke shop in diagon alley, and her best friend of late, was waiting for her.

"I see dead people….. Oh sorry granger, it's just you without your make up!" Fred's greeting, insulting as it was, lifted Hermione's spirits no end. Fred was the only one who still called her granger, she was grateful for it today.

"Why did you ever talk me into watching muggle films with you Fred weasley!" her tone was carefree and light, and it took her back slightly, she has forgotten how to feel carefree.

"Because I'm brilliant at persuading the ladies granger, and besides they're really cool!"

_He looks like a kid at Christmas, bless him. _

"Anyway, you, enough dawdling in this miserable place. We're going to lunch, care to accompany the best looking weasley madam?" he held out his arm in the manner of a Victorian gentleman, and she realised with a jolt of her stomach: he was attractive.

Not that she hadn't known the twins were good-looking before; enough girls at Hogwarts had thrown themselves at the twins. But no, since very nearly losing his life at that awful battle in Hogwarts, Fred had grown up, not matured but become more adult. When things were bad with Ron, Fred cheered her up.

_Stop it. Stop it now. Just because your marriage is bad, don't you even entertain those thoughts…? _

She must have looked dazed because when she focused in again, the red-headed man was staring at her with worry in his eyes.

"Hermione… you okay? We don't have to go you know…"

"No, I'm okay, let's get going!" with her biggest fake smile, she took his arm, trying to ignore the butterfly's in her stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

_This may be the first time in history I've ever wished for Fred Weasley to be dumber…_

Not just that he was smart, he was funny, caring, and loyal and and the brother of her husband…

The day had been so nice, they'd had lunch then went to the joke shop, Fred convincing her, Hermione Granger, nerd extraordinaire, to play hooky, and watch George in full swing demonstrating and selling products.

"Instant baldness shampoo! Lasts for up to 72 hours!"

After that they shopped and talked, which wasn't unusual, but still Hermione felt unlike she'd ever felt. It was like shed had a chemical peel of her entire body, every casual touch, smile and tease made her feel giddy and she found herself trying not to think of having to go home, to face the living, breathing monster that her husband had become.

But eventually time went on and it couldn't be avoided any longer, with shaky legs and a heavy heart she bid Fred goodbye. She stepped out into Diagon alley and couldn't resist taking one look back. He had already turned around and was engaged in conversation with his twin. She sighed, and carried on down the street, assuming the second she left his presence she also left his thoughts.

George Weasley was so pissed.

"Have you completely lost your mind, is that it? I saw the way you looked at her! Your bothers wife!" the shop had closed, there were only the two pranksters left, one of whom was so angry it was unlikely humor could be derived from anything lately.

"I haven't done anything! Jeez George, just leave it, alright?" with a violent push at the door Fred bounded the stairs into the small but well-kept flat they shared. He didn't want to talk to George, didn't want George to accuse him of things he knew himself were true.

Ever persistent, George wasn't more than a few seconds behind him, his lips pursed into a grim line. He hated fighting with Fred, but this had to be talked about.

"Fred… FRED WEASLEY!" the shout came out angrier than intended, but it stopped Fred in his tracks, barely a foot from the sanctuary of his bedroom door. Fred didn't turn his back, and the way his voice, famous for being carefree, sounded broken and choked. It tore at Georges heart, he wished to god they could be back in the burrow, playing in the back yard as kids. They were men now, and his twin was hurting so badly.

"What do you want from me georgie? To tell you I don't want her, that I haven't always wanted her? That I don't want to shake Ron every time I see how… how fucking destroyed she looks? That I can't shake her from my mind?"

George went instinctively to the other half of him, wrapping muscled arms around well-defined shoulder. When the dam broke and he felt Fred hug him back he felt like crying, Fred was right in his opinion of their younger sibling. But still, there was no way any happiness could come from this.

"I know Freddy, I know. It sucks, but still, he's still your brother Fred, they're married…"

The rest of his sentence was blown out by Fred fighting his way out of the embrace, his hurt and anger and aggression etched into his face.

George inadvertently sucked in a breath of apprehension. Fred was angry, and angry Fred could be juvenile, stupid and hurtful. _Not that different from Ron. _

"That SHAM of a marriage she goes home to, you have respect for that?" he turned around and was then shouting at his twin, all pretence lost. It was like he just wanted someone else to hurt.

"How DARE you lecture me on respect for marriage, George. Tell me, is Oliver wood still going straight home to his wife after fucking you, convincing himself and the world he's straight? Still creeping out of this flat before sunrise? And you… you just allow it. So DON'T FUCKING TELL ME TO RESPECT MARRIAGE WHEN I LOVE HER!"

The silence echoed in the room, both horrified. It was the secret that they'd never spoken about, not even the mornings Fred would hear him leave and he'd just know how used and cheap and _dirty_ George felt. Now Fred had thrown it in Georges face like a cheap comeback. He would do anything to take it back. He'd rather die than hurt George.

"ge-george?" it was a plea, a plea for him to be okay, to forgive him.

George didn't look at him in the eye.

"I'm going for a shower. When I come out, this conversation will never have happened. We will NEVER discuss this again. Understood?" his voice dripped with hurt and shame. Harsh as it was, his brother was right and he knew it.

He went for a shower, Fred made dinner. Within an hour they were whole again, the conversation aborted but still playing around both men's heads.

meanwhile, they had no idea how awful the things that were happening at hermione's house, that this night would be the night everything changed.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione Jean Granger thought she knew pain, she had, in a very philosophical way, sat with it, engaged it, and it wasn't a stranger. Whether by Bellatrix's wand or Ron's punches, it didn't matter. It was the sensation, that familiar experience that in some ways is the true equalizer of humanity. Old or young, male or female, rich or poor, witch or muggle. When pain came too you, everyone's the same.

The sound of knuckle beating flesh, of boots finding her ribs, of her hair being ripped out. Her bones, breaking. Her flesh, bleeding. Screaming. She guessed that was hers. Panting and the occasional curse, that must be his. She was too far gone to tell anymore, the pain was washing white-hot over everything and sleep looked so inviting…

The punches, the kicks, the slaps, everything stopped. She breathed, maybe it was over now. She would sleep right here, curled into the tightest ball she could contort herself into, until the daylight came. Until the smell of fire whisky left the room through the open window and she could crawl to the bathroom and get some healing potions.

She was so far into unconsciousness that the first notice she received of the trauma that was about to be inflicted was her right ankle was roughly grabbed and she was forced from the sanctuary of the foetal position. Then, her legs were forced apart and she closed her eyes tight.

_ God no. not that. Please, anything. No, please_

Her prayers went unanswered. Even she wasn't surprised: they always did.

Big, strong hands. She used to love them; they stroked her face, held her close. Now they cruelly forced her eyes open.

Ron's eyes. They were red and slurred with alcohol and rage. She remembered them younger, so kind. So full of happiness. How could this world, so full of magic, have reduced them both to this? Dirty and degraded and beaten. She wasn't even sure who she was describing. Either. Both.

The pain ripped through her. This was new and horrible and she couldn't do anything. Her mind was blank, observing from a distance. She couldn't even name what she knew was happening to her. Denial was even stronger than the hands holding her down.

"Look at me. I CAN DO THIS. NOT HIM… understand?" The voice didn't even sound like Ron, it was slower and so full of hate, the fragile artefact her teenage mind had called her heart, broke all over again.

Another thrust of white-hot agony. Another and another. It gradually faded; the soundtrack of an atrocity. She waited, immobilized with horror and pain and shock.

It ended. She felt him leave her, heave himself off. The click of the front door. She felt the blood between her legs, the ache that was unlike anything, distinctive in its agony.

Sleep beckoned, sleep and dreams of a life away from this. A life with a smiling red-haired man, happiness, children. A man not her husband. A woman, not lying on a filthy floor, trying not to cry. Finally, she slept.


	4. Chapter 4

_**This was written fast and at 3am. dont judge too harshly. **_

The sickening feeling that stalked Fred's **stomach** was like being constantly poised at the very top of a was the anxiety every human can relate too. In the immediate future, something was about to go very very badly. He was as sure of it as he was his and George's names. He also knew what was making him like this.

_Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. _

She had looked so utterly terrified as they hugged goodbye, so unwilling. Yet she smiled, squared her shoulders and walked away. He wanted to run to her, wrap his arms around her, whisper the words he'd always been afraid too.

_Stay. I'll keep you safe. No one will ever hurt you again. I love you. _

But he couldn't. Could he? Even George didn't support him in this, and that's what unsettled him the most. No matter how stupid, infantile, downright ridiculous something was, a grin and a "god yeah!" from his twin could always be relied upon. Now, he felt alone. Sat in their flat, in the dark, brooding.

He knew, instinctively that something was wrong. He should go, he had to go. Anything could be happening to her….

_Slam. Punch._ Sob.

The sick feeling deepened and intensified as Fred dashed out of his room, the brain no-one seemed to credit him with racing through a million possibilities.

No matter what he'd envisioned by the time he got through the door, nothing prepared him for the gut wrenching sight of his twin, his other half, slumped down a wall with a bloody hand, crying the tears only a truly broken man could produce.

"Georgey? George, what happened? Tell me please?" He'd hate how weak, how pleading, his voice sounded. Right now he didn't care. His brother was hurt. That was enough. That was everything.

"ol-olli-olliver. He, he doesn't-he doesn't want me anymore, fre-fred" The admission was choked out and it brought with it a fresh wave of tears that racked his entire body.

Fred fought down the rage that was screaming instantly for Wood's head on his wall. Although deceptively easy-going, his temper was like an animal, one snap and the red mist descended. Then, as fast as it came, it withdrew, and the exhausted man was left surrounded by the damage he'd done. The parallel to his younger brother never occurred; he was too fixated on helping George.

He bodily lifted his twin, not failing to notice how much thinner he'd gotten lately. Shame coursed through him: he hadn't been checking if George was eating.

He dragged him over the kitchen area, George so pliant in his arms, so trusting. He wondered, and wasn't alone that night, how life had brought boys so strong-willed and clever and popular, so gifted, down to this.

He propped George in a chair, and set about cleaning his hand. Due to the shop's testing's they were both more than familiar with first aid and healing. George Weasley never even lifted his head, except when a glass full of booze slid his way. Vodka, pure, cheap and tasted horrific.

He was down three shots when Fred was across the table, butterbeer in hand. Fred drank rarely and limited amounts.

George gathered the courage to look up, bracing himself for disgust, for scorn, self-righteousness. Nothing, in his mind, he didn't deserve.

Instead, the compassion, warmth, acceptance, just the sheer love that radiated from Fred's eyes made him want to cry all over again.

"Tell me. Tell me everything, George." His voice was so soft, but it was a command none the less.

Out it came. Hogwarts, the first kisses in the showers after quidditch practice became sex in broom cupboards and the like. Never a relationship, never anything more than Wood using him. George was in love, he convinced himself it would work. One day. Leaving Hogwarts. Wood 'explaining' how 'it' wasn't good for his reputation. Watching him parade some hag around, marrying her. Still coming round to George when he felt the urge. Leaving immediately after. Quick and dirty. Still, George convinced himself, once day.

"Until tonight. What you said, it stuck with me, Fred. You were right-no, don't look like that, you were. So I told him, all or nothing. He-he laughed at me. Said he was surprised this hadn't happened years ago, but then I always was a… a doormat. He said I should go find some other married man that was all I'm good for. A cheap, quick, shag."

It was by sheer focus that Fred hadn't apparated to the posh house wood shared with his wife and beat the man to death. Every synapse in his body was screaming for blood. But that's not what his brother needed now, he needed words, and he better pick the right ones.

"Fuck him, George. He's a prick who doesn't deserve you, who's never, deserved you. You're amazing, funny and loyal and handsome, how could you not be, you're me!" he drew courage from the snort of laughter from George.

"Seriously mate, Wood will never deserve you. You will find someone who would rather move In with auntie Muriel than ever hurt you. Man, woman, what do I give a shit? You're my brother and I love you."

The rest of the speech was drowned out by the arms that engulfed him.

"Thanks Fred, really. I'm going to sleep, alright?"

"Sure… George?"

"yeah?"

"I can't help feeling something's… bad happened. To, to Hermione I mean."

George's eyes narrowed and focused even though the by now six vodka shot he'd drank.

"Seriously, Fred. Don't. Messing with married people only breaks your heart. When it's your brother's wife, even worse. Please, promise me you'll leave this alone?"

"i….. Okay, I promise George. "

He knew that even if he was functioning, George wasn't okay, and wouldn't be for a long time. He didn't want a row.

He waited until he could hear through the walls the distinctive snores of his twin. Then he whispered to the dark.

"I'm sorry George. I know something's wrong."

He apparated directly into the living room of the house his brother and the love of his life shared, and physically tripped over what he thought was a ball of rags on the ground. However, when he straightened to realise the rags had black and blue bruises, and bloodied, bushy hair, his heart stopped.

_Hermione. _


End file.
